Sidewalk Cracks
by pictureframesgetdustysometimes
Summary: It's not superstition or magic or an unwritten-but-wholly-understood-universal-law. It just is. It's just luck, she said. But she never said what kind of luck it was.
1. Chapter 1

**yeah, so, i've posted on here before, but lost interest? the story was 'sunrises and carcrashes' and it was on a different pen name that i forgot the password and e-mail to. **

**i might lose interest again, forewarning ;.**

**anyway, the first chapter is short? i guess because it doesn't look this short on microword. my b, dawg.**

--

Chewed nails unconsciously dug into pale palms, shivering in the cold of the too-white waiting room. Eyes full of smoke darted around to each blank face, trying to read empty expressions. One size eight foot tapped a strange beat against the sparkling linoleum floor, occasionally leaving miniature skid marks in it's wake. Ears rung in response to each impersonal announcement made over the crackling intercom. And a growingly agitated mind wondered why the receptionist behind the four foot counter at the front of the room could not use her very own voice to call up each new patient.

Later, chewed nails tapped against a cherry mahogany end table. Fingers danced alongside a strategically placed box of KLEENEX and a sympathetic looking desk lamp. Two size eight feet sat still next too each other atop a freshly vacuumed rug from the twelfth century. Ears struggled to hear each spoken syllable over the muffling humming noise from the aquarium filled with fake coral and miserable fish.

And an annoyed stare focused on a slow clock hung next to a variety of frames encasing a series of degrees and awards and honors photocopied onto official-looking paper and notarized with important looking stamps from the offices of the gods of psychiatry or psychology or some other equally confusing -ology. Such a god sat behind a large desk underneath such frames of authority. A large sweater vest knitted together with horrible patterns of brown and purple and peach lay across a large chest and met around a large belly and spilled over a large waist covered in tweed brown slacks.

"So tell me why you're here," the large man spoke through his large beard from atop his large, overly cushioned chair. Two aggravated eyes rolled to keep a sarcastic tongue bitten back. "Okay, then. Why don't we start somewhere less…sensitive? How old are you?" The large man's large beard asked.

"Seventeen."

"And what do you like to do for fun?" Whiskers ruffled.

"Spontaneously visit shrinks," a witty mouth mumbled through rows of clenched teeth.

"I can't help you if you don't want to be helped," proclaimed the hairy chin.

"Good, because I don't want to be helped." Two feet carried a relieved body through a large cherry oak door and out into a plush hallway, through a set of white doors and into a too-white waiting room, across a sparkling linoleum floor and out onto the hot, black pavement of a parking lot under the too-bright summer sun.

"What are you doing home so early, Spencer?" barked a tall, pinched-face blonde as she stomped her way into the huge, well-lit foyer after hearing the front door slam, signaling her daughter's entrance. She was met with nothing more than a scoff as the young girl brushed by her into the stainless steel kitchen. Two pairs of heels clacked against the spotless floor, one in route to the refrigerator, the other in route to follow the first.

"Excuse me, young lady, your appointment with Dr. Langston doesn't end for another hou--"

"Dr. Langston is nothing more than a walking yarn ball with a degree from some unheard of shit hole in Oklahoma!" exclaimed the drained girl in between gulps of Pellegrino.

The taller blonde through her hands up towards the chandelier ridden ceiling in exasperation. "Dr. Langston is a noted pediatric psychologist. You were supposed to let him diagnose you with something or other so we can get you out of this..this..funk you've been in lately! Ever since you and that slut broke up--"

The slam of a frosted glass door marked the end of the conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

so, i had a couple mistakes in the last chapter that drove me crazy. like, literally. mostly just a few missing 'ENTER' lines.

I'm sorry about this chapter, in case it doesn't make much sense or something? It's not really meant to, I guess.

by the way, i'm totally making this up as i go. like, i really have no idea what the end of this chapter is going to look like. organization and planning--not my deal. i'm w!Ng!nG it, D4WGG.

--

It was still early when the world outside the shiny apartment building woke up and started making noise. Angry horns blared every once in a while among shouts and curses that leaked through windows, dipped beneath messy brown curls, and startled a sleeping girl into a consciousness she was not yet willing to accept. She angrily sat up and blew a heap of curls to flutter before her face before allowing them to fall back into place in front of brown eyes smeared with make-up from the night before.

A silent temper tantrum occurred, after which, frustration abetted, the girl struggled against her determined sheets and pillows and all other pieces of cloth beds consist of to free herself from the tangle. Successful and once again slightly frustrated, she padded into her cluttered-with-make-up-and-other-girl-products-bathroom to shower away the after-effects of a night Jack Daniels .

She noted for the sixty-seven-thousandth time that the water pressure wasn't strong enough.

Later, the curly haired girl walked through a door with too-large windows and into a sunny, two-story house. It was warm and cozy, pictures littering every painted wall. The front door opened into a small foyer with hard-wood floors that gleamed under the bright sun streaming through the windows. A pair of converse tapped lightly through the hall that led into an open kitchen, in which a tall, kind looking man with a dark buzzed cut stood over a stove. One hand stirred a pot of sauce while the other reached into the cabinet above the stove for some unknown ingredient. Without measuring the liquid, he poured it into the pot, knowing just when to stop. Finally, he turned and faced the girl, wiping his hands on a dish towel in the process.

"I thought you had plans tonight?" he asked her, puzzled expression firmly in place.

She chuckled a 'hello' and answered, "And miss spending time with you, Uncle Rich? I would never."

He laughed and opened his mouth to speak when the back door opened and two large dogs and a smaller, mop-like animal ran inside, slipping and sliding across the gleaming-from-the-bright-sun hardwood floor. They barked an obnoxious greeting at the girl before skidding under the table and into the other wall where their water bowl sat. A middle-aged woman followed them into the kitchen, a book tucked under her arm and a glass of water dripping in her hand, ice clinking on the glass.

"Oh! Hey, Ashley. I thought you had plans?" She questioned, puzzled expression firmly in place.

The girl, Ashley, merely blinked at her.

The door to the garage opened suddenly, setting off another round of barking, as a young, teenage boy and his friend walked inside. They didn't speak as they entered the kitchen, grabbed a handful of everything it held and retreated upstairs.

"Eric! We're having dinner soon!" The ice-water woman shouted after them.

"Point?" He answered, receiving a chorus of low-pitched guffaws from the other boy.

Ashley chuckled at the rolling eyes of her aunt and the kind smile of her uncle. She walked over and sneaked a glance in the pot, steam smacking her in the face as she inhaled scents of the bubbling tomato sauce. She grimaced at the thought of another Italian meal, but hid her face from the room. While she was recovering from her dissatisfaction, yet another couple shouted their way into the room, red in the face from screaming at each other.

"Carmen! Michael! What on earth--" exclaimed the woman still clutching the book.

"Don't start Donna, we're just discussing something. It's nothing," the young woman explained, a brush off in the making. "Ashley! Hey! I haven't seen you lately."

"We met up at the mall two days ago, Carmen, remember?"

"Right, right. Sorry, Michael has me all distracted with faux wedding plans. Las Vegas, my ass."

Another argument ensued, earning exchanged glanced from the leftover family members. The curly haired girl glanced out the window of the front door to see another family outside, watching as a tiny boy and an even tinier girl peddling around the cul-de-sac , laughing and giggling in between turns, because those took concentration. The young girl fell and before Ashley could blink, the boy was by her side, helping her up and back onto the tricycle before a scar could threaten a knee.

The curly haired girl smiled from behind a too-large window, her face smiling back at her in it's reflection.


End file.
